Hidden Heart
by Starisia the Shadow Demon
Summary: Only he will ever be allowed to see what's truly behind the porcelain facade and feigned happiness, to see what your heart truly feels and the pain you try so desperately to hide. One-Shot for Yullen Week 2011! M to be safe. Companion to Starlit Emptiness


**A/N: Yullen Week entry four is up! Incredibly I finished this one in about four hours after reading one of my **_**amazing**_** beta reader's Fic's and I'm surprisingly happy with it. Honestly I'd had this idea in my head for MONTHS but I just couldn't execute it the way I wanted, but, after reading one of her Fic's I was able to get cracking and get this done!**

**Theme: Disguise (Optional)**

**Beta Reader: Kirkland, who else ^_^**

**Disclaimer: If I owned DGM there would have been a chapter where Allen and Lavi were in Vegas a loooooonge time ago, so since there wasn't I obviously don't own.**

**S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

You're hiding, trying to keep everyone out so that the pain won't be able to reach you. You believe there's blissful safeness behind your mask, your seamless disguise flawless to those on the outside. You think that no one sees the cracks you hide with false smiles and forced cheerfulness, and the thought makes you happy but at the same time it tears at your heart like broken glass and the shattered shards of the mirror you try to hide from, the mirror you want so desperately to reflect something different from the flawed exterior and mass of writhing shadow that stands behind you.

You don't want them to see behind the mask, the heartache you try so desperately to hide as the 14th tries to devour you from the inside. You don't want to love them because you don't want to be hurt when that love comes crashing down on you like is has every other time. You don't want them to love you because you don't want them to grieve when the time finally comes, and you fall victim to the Noah that resides within your heart and soul - but you question whether you have either of those things anymore.

Allen, you used to believe that you held a place in God's heart, one special place that was only yours just like everyone else had theirs, but now, you wonder if God has abandoned you, left you to the Noah's mercy. You know you're foolish for thinking like this, but there's no helping it.

You want so desperately not to believe such things. You want so desperately to believe it's still your heart beating within your chest, to believe your soul is still your own, not that writhing mass of darkness that mocks you from the mirror, ever smiling that grotesque grin that makes goosebumps rise on your skin and your blood run cold.

You know what the Noah wants; you've seen it in your dreams. It wants to rip the order apart, destroy those you have come to call your friends. No one would guess how you wake in the middle of the night, trembling and sobbing, trying to stop your racing heart and keep the screams from tearing their way up your throat like they so desperately _need_ to.

You're never able to get back to sleep after that, no matter how hard you try - and you've _tried_. You lie awake for hours, a mess of pain and fear, but you're always able to compose yourself before you leave your room, and no one is any wiser about what you'd gone through just a few hours before

You're usually so calm, Allen, so happy as far as anyone can tell. Not even flinching when you catch a passing glimpse of your reflection, at least not often. What makes you jump now, what makes you wince and want to hide are his harsh, loathing glances and the heated, hate filled glare.

You can't understand why he's hated you from the instant he saw you, but you're grateful for it. You're grateful for the heated fights, both the arguments and brawls that often result in a trip to the infirmary for you both. You're grateful for it all, especially his hatred of you because you know he hates you for _you_ and not because of the Noah that lives within, that threatens to tear and devour everything you hold dear.

It's late winter when you wake up with tears spilling from your eyes, an unbearable agony engulfing your heart. It's like a weight on your chest and you can't breathe around the ragged, broken sobs that escape your throat.

The images replay themselves and you just want them to go away. You see yourself standing in a pool of blood surrounded by the barely recognizable corpses of your so-called friends. Your hair is slicked to your skin, once snowy locks dyed crimson by the blood of your comrades, skin covered with the thick liquid and you're _grinning_. You laugh as you see slowly dimming sapphire eyes and blood soaked raven locks.

You shake your head in a vain attempt to clear the images from your memory and dress quickly. You don't want to be in your room any longer; don't want to be reminded of what you'd done in your dream, how you laughed as Lenalee and Lavi cried out in pain, how enthralled you'd felt as their blood painted the walls that lovely shade of red you found so glorious you just _had_ to see _more,_ how you'd put _his_ ability to a test by cutting at the slightly tanned flesh with your claws and his beloved Mugen. How you'd taunted him as he bled, that he was healing slower and the tattoo was spreading with each cut you made in that once flawless flesh, how you'd asked how it felt to feel the sting of his own blade, the only thing he held dear.

It's sickening, just remembering the sick satisfaction you'd felt as his face contorted in pain and screams of agony escaped his throat no matter how he fought to keep them in.

You fight back another sob as you leave your room. It's the middle of the night, but even if it wasn't, you don't have it in you to worry about anyone seeing you in this wretched state. You just want to wander the familiar halls and _forget_. You want to get lost and spend hours trying to find your way back because at least then you'd have some sort of distraction, something to keep you from remembering your tainted, blood soaked dream.

You don't know how long you've been wandering the halls but your legs have started to burn and you've been lost for hours, but still you can't get the images out of your mind.

Finally, you can't walk anymore and you lean back against the wall. You pull your legs to your chest and lean your head on them as the sobs threaten to return.

Time passes but you don't notice. You're too wrapped up in your chrysalis of self-loathing to notice as the sun begins to rise, or as a figure approaches. You don't hear it as he calls your 'nickname.' You only notice his presence when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up to meet deep sapphire eyes, and your brow furrows in confusion as something in their depths catches your attention, but it's gone before you can tell for sure what it is and you're convinced it was only a product of your frayed nerves and unstable imagination.

"What the hell are you doing here, sprout?" he growls and the irritation in his voice is clear, as is the contempt he feels for you.

Your only reply is to stare at him for a moment, your self-loathing only increasing as you recall how he'd looked covered in beautiful red. You feel the sting of fresh tears and you burry your face back into your knees, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself and mumbling for him to leave you alone.

But he's stubborn and refuses to listen to a _bean sprout _like you. You know he doesn't care what's wrong with you, and that he only wants to know why he's now being forced to deal with your pathetic self so early in the morning.

You don't look up, but you know he's there. You can feel his eyes, that heated, hate filled glare boring holes into you and all you want is for him to leave you alone and let you resurrect your mask in peace.

He keeps prodding, grumbling and throwing insults your way but you don't react. You don't even look at him until it's been at least an hour and that's when he grows tired of waiting for you to respond of your own will.

You yelp in pain as a hand tangles in your hair none to gently, and tugs hard enough to bring a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You wince as he pulls harder, forcing you to look him in the eye and he snaps at you, demanding to know _what the_ _fucks wrong with you_.

You don't know if it's the fact that you're looking him in the eye or it's his tone that finally makes you crack. He tugs at your snowy locks again and you follow the movement so that you're standing, back against the wall and the older male glaring at you with so much venom you want onlyto escape, but his hand in your hair makes that impossible

You bite your lip and meet his venom filled glare with one of your own, "Why do you want to know!" you demand angrily, "You hate me, you've always hated me! Why are you suddenly so interested in a pathetic bean sprout like me?"

Your voice rises, becoming frantic as tears spill from your eyes, but you can't stop yourself, "I'll be gone soon, so just quit acting. I can't stand it! I want you to hate me! Hate me for who I am, what I am, what I've done, what I will do-"

You cut off suddenly, all the strength deserting you and you bow your head in defeat, tears still falling freely, "You're the only one," You whisper softly, and you don't notice the shock that's made its way into his normally cold gaze, "You're the only one who hates me for me and not… not because of the Noah…"

It's silent in the hall for what feels like hours but you know that it's only been a few minutes. He doesn't untangle his hand from your hair and you just can't bring yourself to care.

"I don't hate you."

His words make your breath hitch in your throat and your entire body tense, "Wha…?"

He tugs at your hair again, forcing you to look at him, meet his dark eyes. His expression is unreadable and you wonder if he's just saying this to spite you, but you don't think he's the type to do that no matter how much he hates you.

"I said I don't hate you," he says again, leaning closer to you and you can feel his warm breath on your lips, "At least not for what you think. Your naivety, your idiocy, the way you always put your life in danger for total strangers when there's no need, and that fucking _mask_ you always wear, I hate it all. It infuriates me."

His grip on your hair tightens as he speaks and you whimper in pain, "But the reason I hate _you_, Moyashi, is because, by some fucked up miracle, you've gotten me to _care _about your pathetic self."

His confession stuns you and your eyes widen in shock, but there isn't time to voice it before his lips are against yours. You gasp in surprise and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between your parted lips, and you feel the languid muscle slide along your teeth and massage your own. He tugs your hair to change the angle and deepens the kiss.

Your hands come up to his well-toned chest and you want to push him away, you want him to stop kissing you, you want to run, at least, that's what your mind is screaming. It's screaming at you that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be allowing him to ravish your mouth like this, that you shouldn't be _enjoying_ it, but you are.

Instead of pushing him away, your arms snake around his neck and pull him closer, instead of pulling away from the kiss or forcing him out of your mouth, you lean into it and begin to move your tongue with his, a moan escaping your throat as he deepens it more than you would have thought possible, stealing your breath and igniting a fire deep inside of you that threatens to burn you from the inside out and scorch your body, turning it to ash, but you don't care, you can't.

Before you know it, he's pulling you into the room you'd been sitting outside of and you realize suddenly that it was his. He throws you onto the bed, but you don't have time to protest before his lips are on yours once more.

His sword calloused fingers dance across your bare skin, tongues of flame being left in his wake and you know you'll burn if this keeps up, but you can't bring yourself to care, not when the fire he ignites with every feather light touch, every feather soft kiss he lays on your lips, your neck, your chest, sends scorching threads of burning pleasure through every fiber of your being and you know he's feeling it to.

You can tell by the way his pants and groans match yours, as intricately laced as the pain and pleasure your feeling as his body moves with yours, the fire growing in intensity as the passion grows to an unbearable level, but still the heat builds in your veins, the pleasure overrunning the pain, and finally something in you snaps and you cry out his name, his first name, and the fire suddenly leaves you in a blinding moment of sheer bliss.

He collapses beside you, his breath ragged, albeit not nearly as ragged as your own, and pulls you to his chest. You don't have it in you to protest as you bask in the afterglow of such immense pleasure, so you curl into his warmth and just let him hold you, a content smile on your rose petal pink lips.

"You're not wearing your mask," he observes quietly, rubbing nameless shapes on your back, burying his face in the crook of your neck and laying a single feather light kiss on your neck.

Your eyes widen a fraction as you realize he's right. For the first time your mask has fallen and you feel… content to let it fall for a time, so long as you're in his presence.

"It's because of you," you say just as quietly, and you feel his arms around you tighten and a smirk come to his lips where they rest against your neck.

You close your eyes and curl closer to him. You're oddly okay with him seeing through you, seeing the cracks and fissures in your façade.

You're both fading, you to the 14th and him to his own curse, so you've both decided to hang on to each other until you both bleed from this battle of existence.

You'll keep your mask in place around others, let them believe it's as flawless as it seems, but around him, _only_ around him, you'll allow you're mask and disguise to crumble.

Only he will ever be allowed to see what's truly behind the porcelain facade and feigned happiness, to see what your heart truly feels and the pain you try so desperately to hide.

**S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

**A/N: Well my lovelies that's it for Disguise! For the record this was my first time ever writing from a second person POV. I'm pretty happy with it for a first attempt. I feel it came out quite well and conveyed everything just the way I wanted. Before I read Kirk's fic I had tried to write this from first person using both Kanda and Allen as well as third person but I hated it each time. Since second person POV is so rarely used it hadn't even crossed my mind to try it if not for her so I am _etremely_ grateful to her for not only beta reading this but also helping me write it. I also need to thank my friend KingRabbit for helping me with the ending. I didn't like the ending i had before because it was just way too abrupt-I still think it's pretty abrupt but I like it a lot more now thanks to her.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. _PLEASE REVIEW!_ Since this was my first time writing second person POV I'd love to know what you thought ^_^**


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